


Sweet Dreams

by Send_help_im_drowning



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:55:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Send_help_im_drowning/pseuds/Send_help_im_drowning
Summary: (Redo of the original)Andrea, daughter of Morpheus, has been at Camp Half-Blood for almost as long as her best friend Annabeth. When a newcomer called Percy Jackson shows up, the Great Prophecy is set in motion.This is Andrea's story
Relationships: Clarisse La Rue/Chris Rodriguez, Juniper/Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson/Original Female Character(s), Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

I hovered over the new kid as he slept, spoon-feeding his sleeping form ambrosia. Annabeth was sat next to me, reading some new architecture book of hers. She noticed that the kid - whose name I'd learned from Chiron was Percy Jackson - had opened his eyes, and immediately went into interrogation mode.

"What will happen at the summer solstice?"  
  
He croaked, "What?"  
  
Annabeth looked around, afraid someone would overhear - we weren't supposed to talk to him about the godly stuff just yet. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Percy mumbled, "I don't..."  
  
Somebody knocked on the door, and I quickly filled his mouth with pudding.

* * * * *

I was discussing training times with Annabeth (who was the only other camper besides Luke who could actually put up a decent short-range fight with her long dagger and my shorter twin ones) when I noticed Grover approaching us, along with a fully-awake Percy Jackson by his side. He pointed at Chiron, and Percy looked surprised.  
  
"Mr. Brunner!" He cried. That must've been Chiron's pseudonym this time.  
  
"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."  
  
Chiron offered him a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at him with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."  
  
"Uh, thanks." He scooted a little farther away from Mr. D, I assumed it was the alcohol-y appearance.  
  
"Annabeth, Andrea?" Chiron called to us.  
  
We came forward and he introduced us. "These young ladies nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."  
  
Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

I stood and analyzed the guy - he was probably around the same age as Annabeth and I were, but Annabeth was probably a little taller than him, as I judged him to be roughly my height. I glanced to my left, and Annabeth was doing the same as I was.   
  
She glanced at the minotaur horn in Percy's hands, then back at him. "You drool when you sleep." Ah, Annabeth, ever the gentle speaker.

She sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.  
  
"So," Percy said, probably anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?".   
  
"Not Mr. Brunner," Chiron said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."  
  
"Okay." Looking totally confused, Percy turned to Mr. D. "And Mr. D... does that stand for something?"  
  
Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards and glared at Percy. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."  
  
"Oh. Right. Sorry."  
  
"I must say, Percy," Chiron broke in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."  
  
"House call?"  
  
"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to... ah, take a leave of absence."  
  
"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" He asked.  
  
Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."  
  
"Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair.  
  
"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.  
  
"I'm afraid not," Percy said.  
  
"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.  
  
"Sir," Percy repeated, looking like he was liking Mr. D less and less.  
  
"Well," he told Percy, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."  
  
"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.  
  
"Please," Percy interrupted, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun- Chiron - why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"  
  
Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question."  
  
The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile.  
  
Chiron smiled at Percy sympathetically. "Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?'  
  
"She said..." He broke off for a second. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."  
  
"Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so Percy did.  
  
"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"It rarely is," I piped up. I don't think there is a single camper at Camp Half-Blood currently alive that's seen it, myself included.  
  
"Orientation film?" Percy finally asked.  
  
"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know" - he pointed to the horn in the shoe box - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."  
  
Percy stared at the others around the table.  
  
Silence fell until Mr. D yelled "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.  
  
"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"  
  
"Eh? Oh, all right."  
  
Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.  
  
"Wait," Percy told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."  
  
"Well, now," Chiron said. "God - capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."  
  
"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about-"  
  
"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."  
  
"Smaller?"  
  
"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."  
  
"Zeus," Percy said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."  
  
And there it was again - distant thunder on a cloudless day. I huffed out a small sigh at the newbie.  
  
"Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."  
  
"But they're stories," Percy said. "They're- myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."  
  
"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson" - Percy flinched, probably not used to his full name - "what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals - they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."  
  
"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"  
  
"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Percy said after a moment of hesitation.  
  
"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"  
  
He said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."  
  
"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."  
  
Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."  
  
"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe.'"  
  
He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.  
  
Percy's jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.  
  
"Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions."  
  
Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.  
  
"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"  
  
More thunder.  
  
Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.  
  
Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."  
  
"A wood nymph," Percy repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space. I was used to it by now, so I grabbed one of the many sets of playing cards stacked on the table, took it out of its cardboard box and started shuffling it.  
  
"Yes," Mr. D spoke. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time - well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away - the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair."  
  
Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.  
  
"And..." Percy stammered, "your father is..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."  
  
Silence fell for a short moment.

"You're Dionysus," the boy finally said. "The god of wine."  
  
Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"  
  
"Y-yes, Mr. D."  
  
"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"  
  
"You're a god."  
  
"Yes, child."  
  
"A god. You."  
  
I winced and looked up from sitting on the floor, distracted enough from my game of solitaire.  
  
"Would you like to test me, child?" Mr. D said quietly.  
  
"No. No, sir."  
  
The purple fire in the god's eyes died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."  
  
"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."  
  
Mr. D just sighed through his nose, used to being beaten by the teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.  
  
"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."  
  
Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir." I felt sorry for the guy.  
  
Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners."  
  
He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.  
  
"Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked Chiron.  
  
Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."  
  
"Mount Olympus," Percy deadpanned. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"  
  
"Sort of," I spoke up. "There's Mount Olympus in Greece - as in, the physical mountain. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on the mountain. It's still called Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, just as the gods do."  
  
"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?" The poor guy was shell-shocked.  
  
"Yeah. The gods move with the heart of the West." I'd dealt with newbies before, but Percy really seemed to struggle with the concept, so when he said "The what?", Chiron took over.  
  
"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course - the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps - Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on - but the same forces, the same gods."  
  
"And then they died."  
  
"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in RockefellerCenter, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not - and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either - America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."  
  
"Who are you, Chiron? Who... who am I?"  
  
Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight to get up out of his wheelchair, and Percy's eyes widened - he must've still thought Chiron was paralyzed from the waist down.  
  
"Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."  
  
He finally rose from the wheelchair, and Percy stared at the lower form of Chiron - a huge white stallion.  
  
"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers. Andrea will help you with that."


	2. Chapter 2

Percy Jackson was an interesting person.

Observation 1: he was afraid to walk behind Chiron, which I found kind of amusing.

Observation 2: he doesn't like too much attention on him. When we passed the volleyball pit, several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn he was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Observation 3: he was uncomfortable looking straight at pants-less satyrs. Most of them at camp were older than his protector, Grover, and the all simply wore the standard orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts.

Observation 4: he was staring back at the farmhouse. His gaze moved from the eagle weather vane on top of the sky-blue building to the attic window. I followed his gaze and saw something moving the curtain for just a second. A shiver went down my spine at the thought of the Oracle up there. Poor girl had been up there, mummified and only awake when useful for us, deprived of her right to pass beyond earth for years and years.  
  
"What's up there?" Percy's voice broke me out of my thoughts.  
  
"Just the attic," I supplied. Probably wasn't the best thing to bring up a hippie-dressed corpse that spews green smoke and sprouts prophetic rhymes, at least for now.  
  
"Somebody lives there?"  
  
"No," Chiron said with finality. "Not a single living thing."  
  
"Come on, Percy," I said, linking my arm through his to make up for my lighthearted tone being so forced. "Lots to see."  
  
We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe...  
  
Chiron told Percy how the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," I explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort. Mr. D has this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It works best with wine grapes, but Mr. D's restricted from growing those, so we grow strawberries instead."  
  
We watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire.  
  
"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" Percy finally asked Chiron. "I mean... he was a good protector. Really."  
  
Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horses back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."  
  
"But he did that!"  
  
"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate... ah... fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."  
  
A look of guilt crossed Percy's face. "He'll get a second chance, won't he?"  
  
Chiron winced, and I looked in the direction of the cabins - the direction of Annabeth and Luke. "I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age..."  
  
"How old is he?"  
  
"Oh, twenty-eight."  
  
"What! And he's in sixth grade?"  
  
"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."  
  
"That's horrible."  
  
"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career..."  
  
"That's not fair," Percy said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"  
  
Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"  
  
"Chiron," Percy said, with new hope in his eyes. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real..."  
  
"Yes, child?"  
  
"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Chiron's expression darkened.

"Yes, child." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now... until we know more... I would urge you to put that out of your mind."  
  
"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"  
  
"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods."  
  
As we got closer, the sheer vastness of the forest showed itself. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.  
  
I said, "The woods are stocked, if you want to try your luck, but go armed."  
  
"Stocked with what?" he asked. "Armed with what?"  
  
"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. I don't assume you have your own sword and shield?"  
  
"My own-?"  
  
"No," Chiron answered for him. "I think a size five will do. I'll visit the armory later."  
  
Percy looked a little troubled, but the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where we held sword and spear fights.  
  
"Sword and spear fights?" Percy asked.

"Or daggers," I added.  
  
"Cabin challenges and all that," Chiron explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall."  
  
Chiron pointed to the outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables, even though one table had never really been enough for Cabin 11.  
  
"What do you do when it rains?" Percy asked. I frowned.  
  
"We still have to eat, don't we?" I asked.  
  
Finally, we showed him the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side.

I felt the familiarity of my home warm my heart. I loved the mix and match of everyone's style and spirit coming together.

Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven was made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops, which were mainly used by the Apollo and Ares cabins, though Athena and Hermes competed every once in a while too.  
  
In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. Hestia was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.  
  
The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.  
  
"Zeus and Hera?" Percy guessed.  
  
"Yup," I said.  
  
"Their cabins look empty."  
  
"Several of the cabins are. No one ever stays in one or two."  
  
Percy stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.  
  
It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. Percy peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Percy leaned in anyway, and a wistful expression took over. Eventually, Chiron put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Come along, Percy."  
  
Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.  
  
Number five was bright red - not the best paint job, as the color had been splashed on with buckets. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes followed us. Inside, we could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was Clarisse - an almost fourteen year old girl. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on Percy and gave him an evil sneer, obviously trying to intimidate the new kid.  
  
We kept walking. "We haven't seen any other centaurs," Percy observed.  
  
"No," said Chiron sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."  
  
"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really..."  
  
He smiled down at Percy. "The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."  
  
"But, shouldn't you be dead?"  
  
Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. "I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish... and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."  
  
"Doesn't it ever get boring?"  
  
"No, no," he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."  
  
"Why depressing?"  
  
Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again.  
  
"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."  
  
I half-sprinted the last bit to Cabin 11 and slung my arm around Annabeth's waist as she hung hers over my shoulders.  
  
"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you help Andrea take Percy from here?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Cabin eleven," Chiron told me, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourself at home."  
  
Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on _old_. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was a caduceus.

Home.  
  
Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor.

Chiron didn't go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.  
  
"Well, then," Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy. I'll see you at dinner."  
  
He galloped away toward the archery range.  
  
Percy stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren't bowing anymore. They were staring at him, sizing him up.  
  
"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."  
  
He tripped coming in the door, and there were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.  
  
I announced, "Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven."  
  
"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asked.  
  
"Undetermined," I replied.  
  
Everybody groaned.  
  
Luke came forward. "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there."  
  
"This is Luke," Annabeth introduced him, and her voice sounded different - she's had a crush on Luke for years now. She saw Percy looking, and her expression hardened again. "He's your counselor for now."  
  
"For now?" He asked.  
  
"You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."  
  
Percy looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing him as if they were waiting for a chance to pick his pockets.

"How long will I be here?" he asked.  
  
"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."  
  
"How long will that take?"  
  
The campers all laughed.  
  
"Come on," I told him. "We'll show you the volleyball court."  
  
"I've already seen it."  
  
"Come on." Annabeth grabbed his wrist and dragged him outside. We could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind us.  
  
When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."  
  
"What?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one."

"Annie," I chastised. "None of this is his fault."  
  
"What's your problem?" Percy's tone had changed into anger. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy-"  
  
"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth snapped at him. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"  
  
"To get killed?"  
  
"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"  
  
Percy shook his head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then there's only one."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So..."  
  
"Monsters don't die, Percy," I tried to explain. "They can be killed. But they don't die."  
  
"Oh, thanks. That clears it up."  
  
"They don't have souls, like you and me," Annabeth took over. "You can dispel them for a while, maybe even for a whole lifetime if you're lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them archetypes. Eventually, they re-form."

"You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword-"  
  
"The Fur... I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."  
  
"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"  
  
"You talk in your sleep," I spoke up. It's not as if I couldn't've peeked in his dreams, but I try to respect people's privacy.  
  
"You almost called her something. A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"  
  
I glanced nervously at the ground, almost expecting it to open up and swallow us. "You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."  
  
"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering? Why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."  
  
He pointed to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turned pale. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or... your parent."  
  
"My mom is Sally Jackson," he said. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

"Percy, I'm really sorry about your mom, but Annabeth meant your other parent."

"He's dead. I never knew him."  
  
Annabeth sighed; I usually handled this talk with the other kids. "Your father's not dead, Percy."  
  
"How can you say that? You know him?"  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
"Then how can you say-"  
  
"Because I know you. You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."  
  
"You don't know anything about me."  
  
"No?" She raised an eyebrow. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."  
  
"How-"  
  
"Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD - you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."  
  
"You sound like... you went through the same thing?"  
  
"Most of the kids here did," I took over. "If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."  
  
"Ambrosia and nectar."  
  
"The food and drink we were giving you to make you better."

Annabeth spoke up again. "That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're a half-blood."  
  
Then a husky voice yelled, "Well! A newbie!"  
  
I looked over. Clarisse was sauntering toward us, along with three other Ares girls behind her.  
  
"Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"  
  
"Sure, Miss Princess," she said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."  
  
''Erre es korakas!" Annabeth said. ' _Go to the crows_ '. "You don't stand a chance."  
  
"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. She probably wasn't sure she could follow through on the threat, so she turned toward Percy. "Who's this little runt?"  
  
"Percy Jackson," Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares."  
  
He blinked. "Like... the war god?"  
  
Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?"  
  
"No," Percy said. "It explains the bad smell."  
  
Clarisse growled. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy."  
  
"Percy."  
  
"Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."  
  
"Clarisse-" I tried to say.  
  
"Stay out of it, sleepyhead. Same goes for the wise girl."

I sighed through my nose, but I did stay out of it; Percy was the new kid, and he had to earn his own rep. He handed me the minotaur horn, and within a second, Clarisse had him by the neck and was dragging him toward the bathroom.  
  
Percy was kicking and punching, but Clarisse had hands like iron. She dragged him into the girls' bathroom, and Annabeth and I shared a look before following. There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other. It smelled just like any public bathroom, sadly.  
  
Clarisse's friends were all laughing as Percy struggled  
  
"Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed him toward one of the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking."  
  
Her friends snickered.  
  
Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers. I was halfway torn between doing the same and trying to help, but I knew I shouldn't, so I stayed put as well.  
  
Clarisse bent Percy over on his knees and started pushing his head toward the toilet bowl.  
  
Then something happened.

We heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over Percy's head, and the next thing I knew, Annabeth and I were soaking wet as Clarisse screamed in front of us.  
  
Percy turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall.  
  
She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.  
  
As soon as they were out the door, the water shut off as quickly as it had started.  
  
The entire bathroom was flooded. We hadn't been spared. I was dripping wet, but neither I nor Annabeth had been pushed out the door. We was standing in exactly the same place, staring at Percy in shock.  
  
He looked down and I realized he was sitting in the only dry spot in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around him. He didn't even have one drop of water on my clothes. Nothing.  
  
He stood up, and I said, "How did you..."  
  
"I don't know."  
  
We walked to the door. Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face. Her camouflage jacket was sopping and she smelled like sewage. She gave Percy a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead."  
  
He should have let it go.

He didn't.

"You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse? Close your mouth."  
  
Her friends had to hold her back. They dragged her toward cabin five, while the other campers made way to avoid her flailing feet.  
  
I stared at him.  
  
"What?" He demanded, looking between me and my best friend. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"I'm thinking," Annabeth said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag."


	3. Chapter 3

Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever we went, campers pointed at me and murmured something about toilet water. Or maybe they were just staring at Annabeth and me - we were still pretty much dripping wet.  
  
We showed Percy a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of Pan), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough - added challenge. I was pretty good at this stuff.  
  
Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins.  
  
"I've got training to do," Annabeth said flatly, turning to Percy. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall."  
  
"Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"It wasn't my fault."  
  
We shared a skeptical look.  
  
"You need to talk to the Oracle," I finally said.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Not who," Annabeth said. "What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron."  
  
Percy stared into the lake, jumping when he looked at the Naiads. They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if Percy were a long-lost friend. He waved back.  
  
"Please, don't encourage them," I warned. "Naiads are the biggest flirts."  
  
"Naiads," Percy deadpanned. "That's it. I want to go home now."  
  
Annabeth frowned. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."  
  
"You mean, mentally disturbed kids?"  
  
"I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human."  
  
"Half-human and half-what?"  
  
"I think you know."  
  
Percy paused. "God," he finally said. "Half-god."  
  
I nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians."  
  
"That's... crazy."  
  
"Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"  
  
"But those are just-" I almost said myths again. Then I remembered Chiron's warning that in two thousand years, I might be considered a myth. "But if all the kids here are half-gods-"  
  
"Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods."  
  
"Then who's your dad?"

I winced.

"My dad is a professor at West Point," she said tightly. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history."

"He's human."  
  
"What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"  
  
"Who's your mom, then?"  
  
"Cabin six."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
Annabeth straightened - she _was_ pretty proud of her heritage. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle."  
  
Percy nodded, then turned to me. "What about your Olympian parent?"

"Not quite Olympian," I said. "He's not one of the twelve on the council of the gods. We call the rest of the gods and goddesses minor, like my dad - Morpheus, god of dreams."  
  
He took a moment to take in the new information. "And my dad?"  
  
"Undetermined. Nobody knows." I glanced at the direction of the cabins - 11 was so full of kids who don't know their own heritage, or worse, who knew their heritage, and _still_ weren't claimed.  
  
"Except my mother," Percy broke me out of my thoughts. "She knew."  
  
"Maybe not, Percy." Annabeth sounded like she was actually trying to be cautious with her words now. "Gods don't always reveal their identities."  
  
"My dad would have. He loved her."  
  
My best friend and I shared a look.

"Maybe you're right," I finally gave in. "He could send you a sign. Claim you as his son. That happens sometimes."  
  
"You mean sometimes it doesn't?"  
  
Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us."  
  
He took that in silence, probably recalling the Hermes cabin, just as I was a few moments ago.  
  
"So I'm stuck here," he finally spoke up again. "That's it? For the rest of my life?"  
  
"It depends," Annabeth said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble - about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."  
  
"So monsters can't get in here?"  
  
I shook my head. I wanted to reassure him about camp. "No, the woods are stocked with them, though, or sometimes they're specially summoned by someone on the inside. Other than that, it's safe in here."  
  
"Why would anybody want to summon a monster?"  
  
"Practice fights. Practical jokes."  
  
"Practical jokes?"  
  
"The point is," Annabeth broke in, "the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm."  
  
"So... you're year-rounders?"  
  
Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like mine, just with less beads, and Annabeth's had her dad's college ring strung on it, where mine had a ring my dad gave me - along with a prophecy.  
  
"I've been here since I was seven," she said. "Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college."  
  
"Why did you come so young?"  
  
She twisted the ring on her necklace. "None of your business."  
  
"Oh." We stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence, until Percy spoke up again. "So... I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?"  
  
"It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless..."  
  
"Unless?"  
  
"You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time..."  
  
I tried not to wince as her voice trailed off. Luke had been so bitter and heartbroken when he'd returned.  
  
"Back in the sick room," Percy said, "when you guys were feeding me that stuff-"  
  
"Ambrosia," I supplied  
  
"Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice."  
  
Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you do know something?"  
  
"Well... no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?"  
  
She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell us. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time we were there, everything seemed so normal."  
  
"You've been to Olympus?"  
  
"Some of us year-rounders - us, Luke, Clarisse, couple of others - we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council."  
  
"But... how did you get there?"  
  
"The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." She paused, looking at Percy with confusion. "You are a New Yorker, right?"  
  
"Oh, sure."  
  
"Right after we visited," Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping... I mean- Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. And Morpheus doesn't have any problems with other gods. So I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something."

Percy didn't seem to want to answer.  
  
"I've got to get a quest," Annabeth muttered to herself. "I'm not too young. If they would just tell me the problem..."  
  
The smell of barbecue smoke hit us, and Percy's stomach growled. Annabeth told us to go on, and that she'd see us later. We left her on the pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan.

Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. Nobody paid much attention to us as we walked over to our spots on the floor and we plopped down - Percy with his minotaur horn, of course.  
  
Luke came over, carrying some supplies for Percy.  
  
"Found you a sleeping bag," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store."  
  
"Thanks," Percy said, probably a little weirded out by the stealing part.  
  
"No prob." Luke sat between us, pushing his back against the wall. "Tough first day?"  
  
"I don't belong here," Percy said. "I don't even believe in gods."  
  
"Yeah," he said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier."  
  
I put my hand on Luke's arm. We might not share the godly parent, but we'd shared the same cabin for five years, and we were basically full brother and sister.  
  
"So your dad is Hermes?" Percy finally asked. I tried not to wince.  
  
He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, and for a second, Percy looked scared, but Luke just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes."  
  
"The wing-footed messenger guy."  
  
"That's him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you're here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors."

A pause.  
  
"You ever meet your dad?" I asked. _Gods_ , he really didn't know how to read a room, did he?  
  
"Once."

After another pause, Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other."  
  
"Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' And Andrea said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?"  
  
Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... somebody special came to the camp."  
  
"Somebody special?"  
  
"Don't worry about it, kid," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for. Now, come on, it's dinnertime."  
  
The moment he said it, a conch shell blew in the distance.  
  
Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"  
  
The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last. Andrea stood in front, just behind Luke. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.  
  
We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods - literally, as they were draiads.  
  
In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads.  
  
At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven's was way overcrowded.  
  
I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with her siblings - a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey-blond hair.  
  
Clarisse sat behind us at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends.  
  
Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"  
  
Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"  
  
Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and barbecue. The glasses were empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want - nonalcoholic, of course."  
  
Percy said, "Cherry Coke."  
  
The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid.  
  
A metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head. "Blue Cherry Coke."  
  
The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.  
  
He took a cautious sip, looking pleased with the result.  
  
"Here you go, Andy," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket. I put a little on my plate, eating mostly fruit and a bit of bread. I'd never had a big appetite, so I mainly ate for survival. I handed the platter over to Percy, who loaded up his plate, taking at least three times the amount of food I'd grabbed.

He looked really confused when everybody, stood up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion.  
  
I nudged him. "C'mon."

As we got closer, he looked in shock at everyone taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire; the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.  
  
I leaned in close to him and whispered into his ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell."  
  
"You're kidding."

I glanced at him with a serious look in my eyes.  
  
In front of us, Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes."

"Morpheus," I muttered traditionally, grabbing the best-looking of my fruit and tossing it all in, one berry at a time - buying me time to actually send a message. _Hey, dad, check in with mom for me, okay? Let me know how she is. I'll see you tonight._ I paused. _Love you_ , I ended my prayer. It wasn't traditional, or common to actually talk with your godly parent - Zeus' orders. However, he'd been laying off of us praying and dreaming to communicate ever since _it_ happened.

I waited for Percy as he hesitated, made a concentrated face, and dropped in a slice of his meat. We walked back together.  
  
When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.  
  
Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels."  
  
A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.  
  
"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson."  
  
Chiron murmured something.  
  
"Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on."  
  
Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s'mores and joked around, and I saw Percy looking more and more comfortable. I smiled - he was home.  
  
Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. Percy's fingers curled around the Minotaur's horn. He smiled, and his breathing evened out the moment he closed his eyes.


End file.
